


The dark blue sea

by Violetta Jones (ViolettaJones)



Category: One Piece
Genre: F/M, Smut, Sneaky!Nami, Strong friendship with benefits, Virgin!Sanji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-11
Updated: 2011-06-20
Packaged: 2017-11-07 15:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ViolettaJones/pseuds/Violetta%20Jones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nami discovers Sanji has been hiding something from their crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Sanji closed his eyes tightly when her lips, soft yet firm, brushed against his neck, letting out a muffled sound when he felt her grinding slightly against his hips. She had slid her arms around his neck, grabbing the chair's back, and he marveled, far back in the turmoil of thoughts that had invaded his mind, at how strong her grip was, despite her frail and delicate build. He had to fight the urge to embrace her with all his might, but already, his hands were sneaking on her hips, willing to bring her closer but not daring to, for he knew if he did that, he wouldn't be able to resist her further. Her arms were now resting in his back, caressing his hair, his neck, while she was kissing, nipping at his right ear, down to his neckline.

He couldn't believe what was happening. He had more than once fantasized that their relationship would progress further, that she would finally accept and return his affection. In his mind, he had always been the one seducing her, bestowing her with sweet talk and irresistible attentions, capturing her lips in a passionate kiss and ravishing her between satin sheets. Of course, she wouldn't object – she would yearn for every touch after he swept her off her feet.

But he had never imagined that she would give into his courtship, and thus, had never gone past the amiable words and devoted attentions.

This, of course, was as far from the current reality as could possibly be.

And it was the direct consequences of his own cowardice.

***

He had been in the lounge late, that night, preparing dough for next day's breakfast bread. The thing had to be kneaded thoroughly until it didn't stick to fingers anymore, then rest for the night before it got suitable for baking. So, he had decided to stay up late and get done with it before going to bed.

He liked making bread. The way his fingers would dive into the supple dough, stretching, pressing, until its consistency felt smooth, firm yet flexible, retaining some warmth from his own hand's patient kneading. He felt like he literally had to put a little bit of himself in the process, and he liked that, when people ate the final product, they would eat that little bit as well. He knew it was weird, but he felt like he'd stay for a while with whomever had eaten his bread, even if they got separated.

Which is why he liked feeding bread to people important to him.

Preparing bread was an act of love.

He was right in the middle of the kneading step, when he heard the door open. He went on working on the dough, not turning back to check who had just entered the room. He was always in a good mood while preparing bread, and he'd accommodate gladly with anyone entering the kitchen at this time – even a hunger-induced captain, or a marimo looking for booze – as long as they let him finish properly first.

He smiled when he heard Nami's lovely voice.

"Ah, Sanji-kun." She didn't seem surprised. "Are you making bread again?"

"I'm glad I am, for I got to see your radiant face before falling in slumber's arms."

He would always compliment her eloquently, as he knew she deserved better than the best he had to offer her. Nami was a beautiful, delicate young woman, and Sanji envisioned her as nothing less than the goddess she nearly was, if not for her very terrestrial, corporal reality. She had never really acknowledged his courtship with anything more than amused smiles and indifferent shrugs, but she had always accepted his ways, just as she accepted every fancy drink or snack he would serve her daily.

And it was more than enough for him. It made him happy.

He finally turned back, taking the board the dough was resting on, and putting it on the table before resuming his task.

"I'll be done in a minute. Would you like some hot chocolate then?"

"Sure. It's really cold out there." She sounded a little down, which made him raise an interrogative eyebrow, his thumbs pressing the dough in short, circular moves.

She sat at the table, right in front of him, put her elbows on the wooden surface, and rested her chin on her knotted hands. She had worked on her maps late, tonight, but she was starting to feel tired and couldn't concentrate on them anymore. They were approaching a winter island, and the outside cold was seeping through Merry's planks as surely as sand would run between fingers. Her hands were freezing.

She was looking at his hands, pushing, pressing the dough skillfully, his long fingers intertwining with thick strips of flexible buttery paste and then crushing them together again. She loved watching Sanji when he was cooking, his eyes – very blue and very wide – intent on whatever he was making, focused on his task as if the outer world had disappeared, a serious, concentrated look on his face. Yet, there was something more when he prepared bread. Some kind of soft, relaxed, fond feeling to his features as his talented fingers blended with the dough.

He never looked at her like that. When he looked at her, it was generally with a stupid, fawning look of complete adoration on his face. Which might be why she loved looking at him, when he wasn't making a fool of himself, uttering nonsense about her and her supposedly out-of-this-world royalty. She loved him when he was himself, nothing more.

She sometimes wondered if he really liked her. He would always treat her like a glass doll, some sort of goddess on a pedestal, much too great, too fragile to be touched. And surely, he never touched her, not even casually, as friends sometimes touch each other – patting a shoulder, touching an arm to get the other's attention, and the like. Then again, he was like that with any decent-looking woman. She sometimes felt like his demeanor was only a pretence. Sanji liked all women equally, bestowing them with attentions, sweets and flowers, but in turn, this enabled him to keep some distance between himself and the whole fair gender.

And she often wondered why someone claiming his love for women in such an extravagant fashion would put up such a front.

Merely thinking about it usually made her feel lonely, and tonight, it sure did.

She sighed when Sanji finally removed his hands from the dough he had been kneading for the last half hour, rubbing them together to remove any excess flour left, and grabbed a cloth to cover it before putting it back on the counter.

"Your hot chocolate will be ready in a moment, Princess." He glanced at her from behind his golden hair when he heard her sigh again. He had noticed the first one, but he had merely discarded it, thinking she was only tired.

Yet, as he was studying her lovely face, he noticed she was frowning, when she had been perfectly relaxed moments ago. It couldn't be that she was annoyed at his charming volubility. She must have something else on her mind bothering her.

"How's the map-making going lately?" He tried to sound casual, as he turned to the small kitchen and started pouring milk in a tiny saucepan, while she was sitting at the table.

Her eyes widened slightly, as if she had caught herself doing something she wasn't supposed to. She smiled.

"I'm almost done with the last one. It was quick anyway. The island was a small one."

He lit the stove, and as he put the milk-filled container above the short, blue flames, he asked softly : "And why are you awake at this time? I thought you'd gone to bed a while ago."

"I was working on my maps." She paused. "It was freezing, so I thought I'd get something warm to drink."

He added powdered chocolate, then cream to the saucepan, and stirred slowly with a wooden spoon, wondering what it was that had bothered her earlier.

"I thought you'd still be awake," she added after some time.

"So, you were actively seeking my company?" He smiled.

He heard her sigh while he was topping the hot chocolate he had poured in a mug with whipped-cream. Something was definitely off with her, tonight.

"Or did you just need to talk about whatever is bothering you?" He put the treat on the table, and sat in front of her. "Here you are, Princess."

She put her hands around the mug, but made no move to actually drink.

"You should taste it while it's still warm. I made it so it wouldn't burn these perfect lips of yours," he encouraged her, his elbows on the table, resting his head on crossed hands. Watching Nami enjoying anything he had prepared always made his day.

She didn't answer. She was now eying the whipped-cream convolutions, as if they displeased her. She held the cup to her mouth and took a sip, before putting it aside.

"... too sweet."

"Huh? I'm sure I didn't put too much sugar in there..."

"It's you." She was now intently looking at him, their eyes locked, hers filled with what looked like irritation, and his, widened by the surprise he felt at her last words. "You're too nice to me. Too sweet. I don't like it."

She now looked a little more than irritated – she was clearly upset, and surprisingly, she also seemed a little sad.

He cleared his throat and fumbled nervously into his jacket, looking for a cigarette. She didn't like that he was nice to her. It could only mean one thing : she was annoyed at him for being too insistent, too pushy with her, and she wanted him to stop. And she was about to tell him. He felt his heart sink.

He didn't want that.

"Sanji-kun..."

"Yes?"

"Can you..." She stopped. She looked like she was searching for words, her delicate eyebrows twisted in a light frown.

"What is it?" He stuck the cigarette between his lips, and reached inside his pants back pocket for his lighter, waiting for her to say the words that, he was sure, would break his heart.

He was about to light it when Nami raised from her chair, pushing her cup aside, leaned over the table. Supporting herself on her left arm, she raised her other hand and slowly snaked her fingers between his palm and lighter, grabbing the small metallic object and putting it on the table. She then leaned in closer, her face getting closer to his, and, pressing two fingers around his cigarette, gently removed it from the corner of his lips.

Sanji, who expected a strong, irritated rebuff, was startled by the gentleness of her gesture. He was staring at her, his eyes wide from his bewilderment at her actions, as Nami's wrist, the small stick still between her graceful, slender fingers, came to rest on his neck, her thumb softly stroking his cheek, from the corner of his mouth to the base of his left ear. Her face was so close now that her lips were almost touching his. He could feel her breath, hushed, slightly wavering – she smelled of chocolate and milk, of tangerine, of shampoo, and of sea salt.

She stopped moving for a moment, her eyes misty and obscured by her long eyelashes, as if waiting for him to make a move. When he didn't, too dazed and confused at her sudden change of demeanor towards him, she cupped his face, slightly tilted her head, and brushed her lips against his, closing her eyes.

Sanji didn't react, unable to fathom what was happening.

Moments later, she drew back, and he could hear her sighing softly. She sat back in her chair, and much to his surprise, took his lighter from the table, and, sticking the cigarette between her own lips, lit it, closing her eyes as if in bliss while drawing a long drag, then exhaling the smoke through her nose.

When she opened her eyes, he was still staring at her. She looked irritated, and possibly a bit sad. Almost disappointed.

He had been too stunned to even think about returning her kiss, but now the moment was gone, his mind started spinning.

_What the hell just happened?_

He wanted to say something – ask her why she did that, why she suddenly felt like kissing him after months and months of courtship, of unrequited flirting on his part, but found himself unable to speak.

He needed a cigarette. Again, he reached inside his jacket, taking the pack out, for his hand was shaking, and he didn't trust his fingers to draw one without letting it fall on the floor.

She broke the silence while he was, once again, fumbling with his lighter, trying to light the thin cylinder.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that." She had turned her head towards the wall, facing away from him, and her eyes were set on the floor, curtained by her ginger hair, which looked darker in the galley's dim light. He reckoned that she was beautiful.

"Nami-san, what-" She stopped him, shaking her head tiredly.

"Don't. I'm sorry. I thought..." She paused once again, then asked absentmindedly, lowering her voice : "Why... why didn't you..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but Sanji knew what she wanted to ask : why didn't he kiss her back? After being pursued, lavished with sweet attentions for such a long time, of course, she would expect that he'd be thrilled when she finally seemed to return his feelings.

The problem was that he didn't know how to answer that question. He didn't respond to her kiss because he never expected her to do such a thing, because he'd been stunned, because he couldn't believe it was really happening. He didn't, because despite his courteous behavior towards women, he had never expected that one of them would actually take him seriously. Especially not his clever, beautiful Nami-swan, who never really showed any romantic interest in him, despite taking advantage of his good will on every other occasion.

And now it happened, he felt tremendously scared, because he didn't know what to do anymore. And clearly, he didn't want to tell her, because he didn't want her to think less of him.

"I..." He paused, trying to think of a plausible explanation, but found himself unable to find one. Glancing sideways toward Nami, and confronted with her beautiful, somewhat sad face, he knew he couldn't lie to her anymore than he already had, and finally decided that he might as well drop the pretence.

"I guess I should be the one apologizing. I've... I haven't been very honest with you – or anyone, for that matter. Not even with myself."

She raised her head, her eyebrows gracefully knotted in a slight frown, and shook her head. "I don't think I understand what you're trying to say."

"The truth is, despite everything I said and did since we met, I lack self-confidence with women."

Nami didn't say anything, dragging on her cigarette instead, so he went on.

"And I don't deserve the 'love-cook' title." He smiled bitterly. "Well, I know everything about courtship, but... What's so funny?" He asked suddenly, startled and a tad offended, when Nami chuckled at his last statement.

"Nothing. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mock you. Go on." She smiled at him in what she hoped was an encouraging fashion. She had to admit, she didn't expected such a turn of events, and found herself quite interested in what he had to say.

"Well, I... I'm only telling you because you deserve to know, but I don't need your pity. Nor do I deserve your trust, because I've been lying to you since the beginning."

He paused, breathing deeply, and scratched his head nervously, as if trying to gather his courage before finally spilling : "I've never been in a relationship before."

She didn't reply. He didn't dare look at her yet. He was pretty sure she'd be upset by this revelation, and maybe even sad that he lied to her.

Silence lingered, and he found himself feeling the surrounding tension. Before he knew it, he was speaking again, saying the first stupid thing crossing his mind.

"I... I kissed a girl once, but I... guess it doesn't really count." _Great_ , he thought. _Not only are you a pathetic fool, but you even managed to make things worse, unable to avoid opening your big mouth, dumb-ass_.

He gave her an apologetic look and waited for her to tell him off. It wasn't like he could have avoided that – the habit was too deep anchored within him, originated from his early days on the Baratie, when he realized he was the youngest, most attractive staff member – as well as the most inexperienced regarding such matters. Though, he had to admit that his silly demeanor didn't really help his case – still didn't, obviously. He barely hoped Nami would understand how much this confidence had cost him, since he never told any of his nakama about this, believing he'd lose their trust if he admitted he'd been deceiving them ever since they met.

"Ah..."

She dragged a last time on her cigarette, before squeezing it off into the small ashtray on the table.

"To be honest," she said, a faint smile on her lips, "I suspected as much."

He turned to face her, narrowing his eyes "You did?"

Her smile widened. "I don't mean to offend you, Sanji-kun, but... Your whole behavior with girls... It seemed kinda obvious to me that you were inexperienced in that area." Her smile looked somewhat apologetic. "I'm sorry. So, you're a virgin?"

Sanji felt his face heat up at this rather direct question. He didn't want to delve into this matter, but his flushed cheeks were currently betraying him, and there was not much he could do about that. _Fuck that fair complexion_.

"Thought so." Nami, still smiling, relaxed back into her chair, eying Sanji speculatively. "I trust you don't want me to tell anyone. Especially the other guys." She was grinning now, a peculiar look on her face, and he thought for a moment that she was somewhat scary – but still very beautiful – when she smiled like that.

"You're right." He laughed nervously, and, scratching the back of his hand, muttered, more to himself : "Especially not the damn marimo. He'd never leave me alone if he knew."

Suspicions suddenly took hold of his gut. He glanced at Nami, who was still grinning while looking at him. He knew this smile, he knew what it meant, and this, more than anything, strengthened the feeling that he wouldn't be able to get out of this situation unscathed.

"Nami-san..."

"I'm all ready to help you." She cut him abruptly, never parting from her unsettling smile, which widened even more, if that was even possible. "For a price." Her teeth gleamed in the galley's subdued light.

Sanji sighed. He should have known her silence would cost him. "How much?"

Nami raised from her chair and went around the table to stand before him. "I don't want money." She startled him when she raised her arms to put her hands on his chair's back, straddled him in a swift move, and sat into his lap. "There's something much more precious at stake here, if you didn't notice."

Sanji gulped with difficulty when, her hair brushing his cheek, she rested her head on his shoulder, until her lips were inches from his ear, whispering softly : "What do you think I have in mind?"

He breathed deeply, trying to settle his heart's erratic pace, before answering.

"Nami-san... you don't mean it."

Her body was pressed against his, soft and warm, and before he could prevent it, his hands were resting on her hips lightly, ready to push her away, and yet, unwilling to do so. There was no way he could pretend he was clueless about her intentions.

"Nami-san, listen to me. You don't know what you are asking me for. I..."

He paused, not wanting to sound like he rejected her, nor like he didn't want her – he couldn't find it in himself to lie to her again, especially not about... _this_. He swallowed nervously.

"You are nice, clever, beautiful, and you obviously have no idea of how much I admire you. You are everything any man could ever want." _And all I ever wanted_ , he thought, but didn't dare saying it out loud. "I'm just the shitty cook. You deserve better than that."

He stopped, his eyes clenched shut, shuddering when she traced a wet trail on his neck.

" _Please_." He said, his tone almost desperate.

"You are a coward." She placed a kiss on his neck, pinching his skin slightly between her lips, before going on : "This is the perfect answer to your problem. That way, you won't have anything left to hide," she stopped, sucking and nipping on his skin in turn, while he was resisting the temptation to circle her thin body with his arms to bring her closer, "and I'll be able to enjoy your close company. It's awfully cold tonight."

Sanji had to admit she was right, but somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to accept that kind of bargain, for such shallow reasons. He didn't understand what was happening with Nami, all of a sudden, and he needed to know before deciding on what he would do next. He grabbed her shoulders, and gently pushed her back – that gesture requiring his utmost concentration and willpower. He sighed, trying to regain his composure ever so slightly, and open his eyes, locking them with hers – and they were misty, her pupils slightly dilated, and her lips looked very pink and slightly swollen.

"Nami-san, please, listen to me for a moment."

She grabbed his hands and tried to take them away from her shoulders, with added force when she realized she wouldn't be able to remove them gently, but to no avail. She then sighed, frowning slightly, and recoiled a bit, her eyes averted from his.

"Nami," he started again, dropping the honorific, "what do you want from me?"

She sighed again, and he could barely hear her muttered answer.

"Don't make me answer that." She turned to him, slight annoyance, but also worry flowing from her eyes.

He shook his head, sighing softly at her usual tenacity. "I want to know – no, discard that, I need to know."

"Then answer your own question first." Her eyes were gleaming with challenge as she added : "What do _you_ want?"

"I..." He stopped, trying to figure out what it was that he really wanted, what he should answer so this didn't ended up in a disaster, so he didn't ended up offending her, what he should do to ensure that nobody got hurt. He licked his lips nervously, and when Nami's eyes flickered to his mouth when he did so, her intentions written on her face, he had to restrain himself from leaning forward and complying, committing a monumental mistake. She was so desirable at this very moment he wondered how he could even think of resisting her for more than a couple seconds. Yet, there he was, pushing her away, gently, but still refusing whatever it was that she wanted to make of him.

Maybe it was because of his inexperience, he reckoned, and he suddenly started to feel there was nothing to be scared of. There was this girl, perfect in every regard, whom he had always wanted to embrace tightly, to kiss passionately, there she was, sitting in his lap, whispering lustfully into his ear, and he was pushing her away? What kind of idiot would do that only out of fear that the girl of their dreams would witness him, making a fool of himself?

He _was_ a fool. Definitely.

Wait – no. No no no. _No_. He caught himself before giving into his urges, turned his face away from her and closed his eyes. Nami was more important, more precious to him than that. What he wanted was to make her happy. And he knew perfectly he was unable to do that. He was inexperienced, ignorant. He was a fool who couldn't help but follow every girl crossing his path like a poodle in heat. Despite the daily masquerade he had put up in front of everyone he knew for years – aside from his former mates at the Baratie, who practically raised him and knew better – he was a fool who knew nothing about real love or commitment.

Nami needed a man, who could make her happy. Not a boy who barely knew what life was.

He sighed.

While he was lost I his thoughts, Nami was looking at his face. She watched as his features reflected his emotions – tension, then puzzlement, conflict, and finally, defeat and sadness. When he finally turned back to face her, though, there was a different quality to the way he looked at her. His hair was hanging in front of his usually visible eye, and, his grip on her hands now relaxed, she raised a hand to gently brush it away. He shivered when her fingers grazed his temple.

He looked so vulnerable, all of a sudden.

Maybe this was a stupid idea, after all. She had never wanted to hurt him. She had only wanted to push him, to peel the thick layers of faked self-confidence he showed the world to reveal the real Sanji.

And now that she had done it, rather brutally and selfishly, much to her dismay, she realized that he was far more self-conscious, far more sensitive than she ever imagined. And she started to wonder. What about his usual exuberant displays of affection then? What about his exaggerated tears whenever a girl rebuffed or ignored him? Was there even a tiny bit of truth behind them? She couldn't tell what was real or fake anymore.

She sighed deeply, and in a sudden impulse, she slid her arms around his neck and held him tight against her. He felt stiff between her arms.

"Nami-san...?"

She sighed again, her nose against his neck, noticing his smell – tobacco, the bergamot and jasmine perfume he used to wear ever since she had known him, flour, most likely from the bread he had been making earlier, and sweat, but that last smell wasn't unpleasant, nor was it strong. It smelled very much like Sanji, and she thought it wasn't bad.

She held him closer and sighed again. She had handled this whole thing terribly, right from the start, and she knew she wouldn't have another chance to make amends.

"Sanji-kun, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. About all this." She closed her eyes and breathed slowly. He didn't reply, waiting for her to go on, so she obliged. "I won't tell anyone, no matter what. And you won't have to do anything for me in return. Do you understand?"

He relaxed a bit at her words, and to her surprise, raised his arms and hugged her back.

"Yes. Thank you." He had spoken in a hushed, muffled voice, letting out a relieved breath.

 _I shouldn't be doing that_ , Sanji thought, knowing he would soon be unable to restrain himself. Nami was lovely, perfect, and at this very moment, she was all he had ever wanted, all he had ever dreamed of. He hugged her closer, his nose buried in her neck, becoming aware of her skin's softness, of her sweet fruit smell, of her body, lithe and warm against his. He was losing himself in her embrace, and it felt so good he couldn't find it in himself to back away. He felt himself shiver, and he didn't know anymore if it was caused by his fears – of failing to provide what she wanted, of falling for her even more than he ever did before, and of being rejected because she wouldn't – couldn't – feel the same toward him – or by the emotions twirling within himself and making his chest ache.

He wondered briefly if he could commit to her, giving up on his constant flirting with other women, for right now, he felt like no other existed, but the sweet, lovely Nami-san, sitting in his lap and hugging him affectionately in a way nobody ever did before. The rational, logical part of his brain, muffled by the moment's intensity, but still present, didn't believe he could. This aspect of his character was anchored too deep within him to disappear overnight.

He found that he didn't really want to know, not for now.

He embraced her closely against his chest, his head on her shoulder, and she pressed him back, and he forgot everything else.

Being in Sanji's arms like that felt so _right_ to Nami – easing the loneliness she had felt earlier – she wondered why she hadn't realized before how fond of him she was. Now she saw him for what he really was – she had, prior to this moment, but she had definitely confirmed what she suspected tonight – past the silly love cook demeanor, she saw a whole lot of quality she had known were there, but never really acknowledged until today. Sanji was... he was sweet. He was clever – not the type of cleverness that came from books and knowledge, but he was never devoid of discerning comments or witty retorts. Endlessly patient – with women, obviously, and, she now realized, with the other guys as well, despite getting easily irritated at his male crew-members – then again, they could be really annoying, and she knew where he was coming from in that regard. Sanji was generous, and would never let anyone starve as long as he was able to feed them.

Sanji was loyal and loved his nakama. Sanji was her friend, she trusted him, and she loved him.

 _Yes_ , she thought. _I do love him, and whether what I feel is merely friendship or something else doesn't matter_.

She drew back and looked at his face, her feelings overflowing with such intensity she feared she'd drown in them. She breathed jerkily, and he must have felt something was different, for he was looking at her intently, as if trying to figure out what she would do next, waiting. In the galley's dim light, she took sight of his very blue eyes, half-curtained by golden-blond hair and appearing darker than in daylight, and he looked so young – after all, he was only one year ahead of her, even if she tended to forget about it because he was so much stronger than she was – he looked so unusually vulnerable that, somehow, she felt like she was the one who had to protect him.

Did she need to protect him from herself? She bit her lower lip nervously, fearing he would, once again, push her away.

"Sanji-kun, I... I never answered your question." He looked slightly puzzled. "You asked me what I wanted." She paused, trying to find words that would express what she was feeling right now, words that wouldn't scare him or make him think she was using him. She knew it wouldn't be easy. "What I want is... I don't want to hurt you, nor make you feel uncomfortable." She paused again, the added : "I'm really sorry for earlier. I... I don't want you to be scared of me."

She released her hold on his shoulder, following his arms, untangling herself from his embrace in the same motion, her hands sliding along his arms until they rested on his wrists. She brought his hands between their bodies, and looked at them, all slender fingers and soft skin, and sighed.

"You know, sometimes I feel really stupid." She smiled a tad bitterly.

"But you're not." He was gently caressing her palm with his thumb, and it felt good. "You're not."

She raised her head and lost herself in his eyes, intent on hers, displaying a gentle expression, and his hands felt so warm against hers, contrasting with the outside cold, her heart was beating so fast and she felt dizzy, and tired, but at the same time, she felt good and more than anything, again, this felt so _right_...

Before she realized what was happening, she was pressing her lips against his, and if he seemed surprised at first, he was soon kissing her as well, a hand in her hair and another in the small of her back. His mouth was warm, soft, he tasted and smelled of tobacco, and the way he was kissing her was tender, shy, a tad clumsy, which only made it feel most endearing, his tongue brushing lightly against hers, arousing her so tremendously that she had to break away from him again, before she found herself unable to stop.

She took a long, shaky breath, keeping her eyes closed and relishing the delightful sensation in her body, awakened from his touch and tingling from arousal, yet trying to settle her heart's frantic pace. When she opened her eyes and looked at Sanji, she noticed he was doing the same, his eyes shut tight, breathing jerkily, trying to regain control over his body, to clear his mind. She wanted to tell him that he didn't have to do that, that she was ok with what had just happened.

"Nami-san..." He whispered softly, not opening his eyes yet. "Maybe we should... We shouldn't..."

She stopped him from going further, her hand cupping his face, her thumb slowly brushing against his lower lip softly.

"Hush..." She whispered, trying to decide if this was a good idea as well. She wanted to go on that path that had opened between them, and obviously, he wanted the same thing. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder about what would happen after they did – not _if_ , because she was pretty sure none of them wanted to stop there – she even wondered if they could do so. Would they be able to maintain their previous relationship? She reckoned they wouldn't, which could become a problem. They'd be more or less stuck together, no matter hat happened _afterward_.

When Sanji slightly turned his head to lean into her hand, kissing her palm gently, almost timidly, exposing the appealingly soft-looking skin of his neck, she decided it didn't matter, for now anyway.

Leaning forward, her mouth reached again for the sensitive spot behind his left ear and started trailing kisses there, much more gently than she did previously, occasionally licking or biting the smooth flesh. One of her hands delved deeper in his hair, the other slid under his jacket, softly caressing his hip through his shirt's thinner fabric. She grabbed one of his pants' belt loop and used the gained leverage to bring her body closer to his, all but grinding into his lap. His breath was coming out rough, shaky, and she could feel his arms, slightly tense while he was caressing her back, as if he was restraining himself.

She stopped her ministrations, and whispered into his ear : "Sanji-kun... Please, tell me... Tell me what's wrong. Do you want me to stop?"

She felt his arms close around her, and as he buried his face in her neck again, she could almost grasp with her fingers how helpless he felt.

He sighed, and said : "I want you, but I'm not worthy." He paused, shuddering nervously, then added : "I don't think I can give you what you want."

She smiled against his neck, and planted a soft, affectionate kiss there. "Don't worry. There is nothing you could do that would displease me." She drew back, her eyes intent on his. "I want... I want it. I want you. Do you trust me?"

He looked at her, and replied softly. "I do."

"Then..." She said, getting up and rolling her shoulders, stiff after staying in the same position for so long, then extending her hand towards him, smiling. "Let's go to my room. You don't want your first time to happen on a kitchen chair, or worse, on the diner table, do you?"

He eyed her hand, then looked up at her face, and asked : "Nami-san... Are you sure about this?"

She chuckled. "Let's leave our worries behind and stop thinking for now."

He sighed and scratched the back of his head. "Don't you think this is gonna come back to bite us later?"

She shook her head, still smiling. "Just... Carpe diem."

" _Profite du jour présent_ *."

Sanji had barely whispered these words, which nevertheless reverberated through the silent room.

He stood from the chair, and took Nami's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> * "Profite du jour présent" is the French translation for "Carpe diem" - a Latin saying, and roughly means "enjoy the current day", implying one should not worry about consequences too much, especially if doing so would take away all the fun in life.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nami uncovered Sanji's secret, and decided to do something about it. Sanji accepts her offer, but he fears that this isn't such a good idea.

She led him trough the deck, in the moonless night, never letting go of his hand, to the storage room, a storm lantern in the other. Once there, she finally released him, kneeling down to open the hatch leading to the room she slept in. She flung her legs over the opening's side, her feet soon reaching the stairs down there. She then raised her free hand, inviting him to follow her.

"Come." She said, when she felt him hesitating.

He finally took it, kneeling next to where she was still sitting, and, pressing her hand in his own, his other arm in her back, he leaned in and kissed her. She could feel him shivering, and she wondered if it was caused by the outside cold, still strong in the storage room, or because of his apprehension at the thought of what was about to happen.

"Let's go." She said, tugging on his arm. "My room isn't that warm, and the heat is gonna leak out if we let the hatch open for too long."

He agreed with a slight shaking of his head, followed her when she went down the stairs, and closed the hatch behind himself.

He suddenly found himself in the middle of the dark room when she suddenly shut the light out.

"Nami-san?..."

He felt her hands sneaking around his waist, and very soon, she was embracing him again, pressing her body against his, kissing him with barely restrained passion. He slid his arms around her, letting her guide him toward the couch, on the other side of the room, bathed in darkness. He soon felt his calf bump against soft fabric, and, breaking the kiss, lets himself fall backwards, relieved to find himself sitting on the mellow piece of furniture.

Moments later, she was sitting next to him, sliding an arm over his shoulders in an unconscious protective gesture. Her free hand traveled from his chest to his neck, finally cupping his face, the soft feeling of his hair against her fingertips. Soon, she was straddling him once again, arms reaching up his shoulders, while his hands were brushing up her tights and coming to rest on her hips.

"Relax." She whispered softly, feeling how tense the muscle in his shoulders were. She started massaging him there, slowly, bringing her face closer to his own, until their foreheads were resting against each other. Her hands came back to his chest, slowly unbuttoning his jacket, which soon came to rest on the treasure chest standing on the left of the couch. She then slid her hands under his shirt's collar. She could feel how soft his skin was under her fingertips, almost as soft as hers, and she thought it felt just as he looked – smooth and flawless. It made her want him even more than before.

She tilted her head and brushed her lips against his, and he started kissing her, this time taking the lead. She smiled, reckoning he was becoming better at this. She proceeded to unbutton his shirt, fumbling in the dark, making out each button with her fingers before patiently sliding it through the tiny hole in the fabric, for she couldn't see anything. When she was done, her hands traveled against his chest, enjoying the moment tremendously, feeling, memorizing every place she had seen on occasion, when he would go for a dive on an especially hot day, as well as the ones that had been staying concealed until now. When her fingers brushed against his nipples, she could feel him sigh against her mouth.

She took hold of his shoulders, and motioned him, following the movement, so he was laying on the couch, with her sitting on top of him. She caressed his naked chest idly, and soon leaned in and started kissing, licking his flesh, lingering on places she knew would be sensitive. Once again, his breathing became shaky.

When she drew back, his hands, caressing her hipbones until now, went up to cup her breasts, while he was sitting up to kiss her more.

Inexperienced, maybe, but not bad at this, definitely. His hands were steady and gentled, as she had assumed they would be – he was such a talented cook, used to handling ingredients sometimes very delicate, after all. She let out a quiet hum when he brushed past a nipple, because what he was doing was very enjoyable, and because she wanted him to know that he was doing it right. It was obviously useful, for he seemed to gain some confidence from it, sliding his free hand under her sweater and caressing her back. His hand soon brushed against her bra, and he started feeling the small piece of fabric's fastener. When he finally understood how the thing worked, his other hand joining the first, and after a short while, deftly opened it, before his hands, never leaving her skin, came back to the front, releasing her breasts from the inhibiting garment.

He pulled her sweater up her chest, and when she lifted her arms, slid it over her head and threw it aside, taking her bra along with it. His hands came back to her breasts, soon followed by his mouth, which she soon found was just as innately talented. His tentative, very gentle caresses still made her feel very good, and before she realized, she was grinding into his lap, gripping at his pants' waistband, arousing shaky gasps from him. She could feel how he was reacting to her touch, hard again – she knew he had already been, when they were kissing, on the chair in the kitchen. She started unbuckling his belt, then unbuttoned his pants, and slid the zipper down, before slipping a hand into his boxers to circle his cock in her hand, slightly amused to find that he was wearing silk undergarments. This was so like him.

Sanji had stopped his ministrations on her breasts, and his arms now circled her waist, lost in the sensations of her, fondling this sensitive part of his body, and she pondered for a moment what to do next. She definitely wanted him, and could barely restrain herself from proceeding right now, because his reactions' intensity was tremendously appealing. Yet, it was precisely the sheer intensity of these reactions that caused her to prevent herself from doing so, expecting he wouldn't be able to last long enough for her to get what she wanted as well.

She pushed him down, so he was laying again, leaned forward to kiss him, and from there, proceeded downwards, her mouth tending to his chest, her hand stroking his cock slowly. She motioned herself, tracing wet trails over his abdomen, sliding his pants and underwear down his hips with her free hand. She could feel his legs squirming when he kicked his shoes off, and she smiled against his lower belly's skin, covered in soft, down-like hair. She slid his pants further down, taking the silk boxers with them. Very soon, the only piece of clothing still on him was his wide open shirt, and she was kneeling between his legs.

When she trailed her tongue from the base of his length to the tip, he let out a muffled, shaky moan. She suddenly felt his hand around her wrist, preventing her from going on stroking his cock, despite the fact she could see he was nearly at his limit.

"Nami-san..." He was speaking breathlessly.

She gently removed his hand with her own free one, and, after pressing her lips on his palm, causing him to shudder, intertwined her fingers with his. She then resumed on her task, closing her mouth around Sanji's slender erection.

He was then lost in oblivion. He wanted to stop her again, but found himself unable to say anything anymore – aside from oh's and ah's – and could only clench his teeth, preventing himself from moaning loudly. Nami's mouth was so warm, smooth like silk around him, her tongue was hot and the _things_ it did to his cock were so incredible he could already feel pressure building up within himself. He tried to fight, to last a little longer, but to no avail. What she was doing to him was way too good. He pressed his eyes shut, his forearm over them as he was about to concede, and let out a single, muffled moan as his whole body was tensing, succumbing to a tremor whose intensity he hadn't come to be acquainted with, prior to this moment.

For a while after that, he could only feel the cold air around the wet tip of his cock, Nami's gentle touch, fingers brushing against his inner thigh and on his palm, then regained sensations in his whole body, gradually. He felt heavenly, extremely content in his afterglow, and he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but feared it would scare her away, when they were far from done. Stopping now seemed impossible to him. So, he pulled on her arm instead, sitting in the same motion, and kissed her as tenderly, as passionately as he could, pouring his feeling through the contact, tasting himself on her lips, foreign and slightly bitter. He had come into her mouth, and wondered briefly if she had swallowed or disposed of it all while he was recovering.

When they parted, she stepped aside and tucked herself between Sanji and the couch's back, laying next to him, and he could feel her smiling against his shoulder, satisfied at the pleasure she had given him.

He turned to her and intertwined his legs with hers, and, raising their hands, still clenched around one another, kissed each of her fingers. Then, propelling himself on an elbow, he motioned her arm so it was resting under his neck, and laid back next to her. He trailed a wet path on the inside of her arm, delicately kissing and licking his way to her shoulder, before nipping gently at her lips. He slid his free arm around her waist, and pressed her body against his, feeling her hand sliding up his chest and coming to cup his face, while they leaned into a tender kiss.

His hand was caressing the soft skin of her waist, and soon came up to gently toy with her right breast. This was promising, she though. Sanji was definitely a quick learner, which made up for his lack of experience with women. He was also very tender, yet quite shy, but not awkward, and he still managed to act very manly, despite not being bossy or dominating in any way. He was making her feel at ease, extremely relaxed. And she liked that a lot – none of her previous flings had managed that much.

She tightened her embrace around his waist, and shifted her legs so she could rub herself against his thigh. He got the clue, and motioned himself so she have a better scope to do so. She pulled at his hand, still playing with her breast – which was soon replaced by his mouth – and made it slide down her body, over her waist, until it reached under her skirt, over her butt, because she was pretty sure he wouldn't dare going there on his own accord – he was too much of a gentleman to do so. Thus allowed to access her more intimate parts, Sanji started becoming bolder, and slid a hand under her cotton panties, brushing, squeezing her flesh very gently, his fingers grazing closer to her most sensitive skin with each caress, while he was kissing her collarbone. It made her feel wild, spreading her legs a bit more and moving her hips just so, to grant him better access. She stifled a sigh when his fingers delved deeper, under her ass, skimming briefly against her most delicate parts, and she pressed her legs around his, so he knew she liked that.

He suddenly moved up, motioning his legs so he was sitting between hers, and placed his hands on her hips. He paused, and she could hear him sighing almost blissfully in the dark as he was slowly sliding her underwear down her legs. He drove his hands along her hips, around her navel, stroking her fair skin with his thumbs, and whispered in the dark.

"You're so lovely."

His hands reached between her tights, pushing them apart gently so she would spread them a bit wider, and he started massaging around her most sensitive spot for a while, making her shiver in anticipation, before dipping two fingers there. While he was slowly caressing her smooth, wet flesh, not daring to slid them into her yet, he went on brushing her lower belly with his other hand, and she let out a blissful sigh. Once again, if his caresses weren't the most skilled, they were definitely the most tender, the most loving she had known until this day, and she thought – they should have done this before.

 _I'm such an idiot for not understanding this earlier_ , she thought.

After a minute maybe, he removed his fingers, and she could hear him fumble in the dark. When he came back to her, placed his hands gently on her tights and started licking her, she couldn't help but let out a short, surprised cry. He stopped almost immediately, anxious that he had done something wrong.

"Ah... No, please... go on..." She said, her breath short.

He resumed his task, as talented with his mouth as he was with his hands, instinctively, and very soon, she could feel heat building up within her. If he didn't stop soon, she would come, and she didn't want it to happen like that. She wanted him.

She reached down and cupped her hand around his face, lifting his chin and preventing him to go on licking her. She sat up, taking his hand and leading him so he'd do the same, and kissed him. She slid her arms around him, noticing he had removed his shirt some time ago, probably before going down on her. Very well.

After they parted, she overturned him gently, and propelled her legs over his, so she was straddling him. His hands traveled up to her breasts, and she smiled, grinding into his hips. She could feel he was ready to go again. She leaned down to kiss him, and grabbed his member to position it against herself.

His breathing caught into his throat when he felt what she was doing, his hands falling on her hips.

"Nami-san..." He whispered against her lips, his voice overwhelmed with want and emotion.

She slowly let herself slide down his length, sighing faintly in bliss. She felt him shudder, and when she started to move, his hands slightly tensed against her hips, making her stop.

"Nami-san... please wait." He clenched his eyes shut, overwhelmed by the sweet sensation of her around him, wet, smooth and tight. It was way too pleasurable, too perfect, and he had to prevent his control over himself to slip again.

Yet, when she removed herself from him, he nearly ached at the sensation of loss.

"Sanji-kun... Let's switch." She took his hand so he sat up, and laid down on the couch in his place. He knelt between her legs, his arms on each side of her head, and leaned down to peck on her lips while she guided him inside her.

"Nami-san..." It was easier for him to stay in control of his desire that way, yet, as he was pressing himself inside her, it still felt so good he was overwhelmed. "Nami, I lo-"

She stopped him, a finger against his mouth, which lingered, caressing his lips gently.

"Carpe diem." He understood that saying it out loud would make things complicated, and she had clearly decided to disregard any further trouble, for now.

He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and shook his head in agreement. He could feel her smile against his mouth as she kissed him, and soon, he started to rock his hips slowly, gently, trying to get used to the wonderful feeling of being buried inside her. Moments later, he reckoned he was in control enough to increase the pace.

The feeling of her flesh sliding against his own was new, foreign, and magnificent. He didn't feel the cold anymore, her skin warm and soft against his. She raised a hand which came to rest on the back of his head, fingers entangled in his hair, pulling his head until it rested near her neck, which he kissed gingerly. She then lowered her hands to his hips, further opening her legs, surrendering to his passionate embrace, and he felt in bliss.

They kept this posture for a while, and he could feel his second orgasm building up. When she propelled herself on her arm, sneaking the other around his bare torso, and kissed him, he knelt back, grabbed her ass with both hands and brought her closer, reaching deeper within her in the same motion. She didn't stop kissing him, but he could hear her muffled moans against his mouth. She was getting tighter with ever thrust, and he hoped, despite the fact he'd soon be past his limit, that she would be able to come before he did. At this point, he was trying to keep his voice low, for he didn't want their other crew-mates to hear what was happening in her room.

She embraced him with both arms, a hand in the small of his back, the other in his hair, and whispered into his ear, in-between her moaning.

"Your... v-voice... mmm... let... me...a-a-aaah... h-hear it..." She was short of breath, and when he obliged, sighing loudly into her neck, his voice very much slipping out of his control, he could feel her tense intensely around him, shuddering under the force of her orgasm, and it didn't take long until he came as well, trusting into her sporadically, his voice reaching heights he never thought it could, the world around him disappearing entirely and exploding in a burst of light against his closed eyelids.

All too fast, it ended. Thrusting inside her a last time, feeling both rejuvenated and sucked dry of all his strength, he let himself follow her when he felt her slid back down on the couch, though he avoided falling on her, shifting so he would rest beside her.

Bliss. This was pure bliss. And Nami was perfect, and his heart ached at the thought that he never really realized how much of a goddess she was before, how much he loved her – and because he wasn't allowed to tell her so. He, who had professed his love to her so many times in the past. She had made it clear that it would ruin the moment, and he didn't want that. Because that very moment was so perfect.

He wondered if he would be able to find it in himself to tell her again, later, in the same way as he used to, _before_. He doubted he could. He took a deep breath, only to realize it made his heart ache deeper. He felt a little like crying, but didn't dare doing so. Men don't cry.

Since he couldn't tell her, he slid his arms around her lithe body, intertwining his legs with hers once again, and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back.

After a minute or so, he started feeling the surrounding cold getting hold of his body again. She was shivering as well. So he rubbed her back with his hands a few times, and sat up.

"Don't you have a blanket somewhere?"

She caught his arms and pressed it gently.

"I'll find it."

She got up, and he could hear her fumbling around in the dark room. When she came back, she threw a thick, woolen blanket at him, and scrambled down, sitting and spreading the thing over them, sliding back into his embrace.

"Why does it have to be so cold..." She said, her teeth clattering.

After a while, though, it got better.

***

Later that day, he was on the deck, a cigarette in his hand, leaning over the railing, in the dull, cold morning fog, which effectively reflected his current mood. It was still pretty early in the morning, and the sun hadn't risen yet. Then again, in that thick mist, he couldn't really tell.

He had soon slipped into slumber, after they got themselves tucked into the blanket, but he didn't sleep very well, despite the exhaustion caused by their affair.

It's not that he regretted anything. What they had just done had made him feel happier, more complete than he ever had, and he didn't think it could ever be outdone by anything else. However, he dreaded what would happen in the morning. Things would change. He knew they would, and it made him feel uneasy.

He spent the next few hours trying to get some rest, but he kept slipping in and out of sleep, jumping at the slightest noise, maybe even for no reason at all. Every time, his first thought was for Nami – was she gone, or still sleeping peacefully in his arms? After waking up for what seemed to be the hundredth time, he gave up, and laid there, his eyes open in the dark, caressing her hair, careful not to wake her up. Thinking about what would happen in the morning. It wasn't like he really wanted to, but he couldn't help it.

He was afraid of going back to sleep, and waking up, later, to find the place beside him on the couch, empty.

When the first morning light came through the small hatch, on the outside wall of Nami's cabin, his mind had explored every possibility regarding what would follow. He didn't dare hope that she would return his feelings, or that they would find themselves into a romantic relationship of sorts. The best thing probably would be to go back to the way things were between them, before – but Sanji knew all too well that he wouldn't be able to get over that night they had spent together. Right now, he couldn't help himself from wanting more.

Since these wouldn't happen, it only left him with the uglier potential situations. She could start feeling awkward around him. Avoid him. Ignore him. Get irritated at him. Hate him.

He didn't even want to think about it.

When he got to the point where he couldn't bear to have those thoughts anymore, twirling around in his mind endlessly, he got up, gathered his clothes and got dressed, before heading for the deck. He needed a cigarette, hoping some fresh air would help clearing his cluttered mind. And if it didn't do the trick, he could always start on breakfast, knowing his other crew-mates wouldn't wake up much later, now. It would certainly help clearing up his thoughts.

He had been there for maybe a few minutes, when he heard footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw a glimpse of ginger, tousled hair. At least, she didn't seem to feel like avoiding him yet.

The footsteps reached past his spot along the railing, and stopped. A quick look from the corner of his eyes revealed Nami, leaning back against the railing. He felt a faint glint of hope taking hold of his chest when she started speaking.

"Sanji-kun."

"Nami-san."

She wasn't ignoring him either.

They stood there, silent falling back over them. She started tapping her foot lightly against the wooden floor, in short thuds. His thoughts were once again in upheaval. There was so much he wanted to tell her, so much he wanted to ask. Yet, he found himself unable to speak. He didn't even dare looking at her face, because he feared that he would find her response written there, of a kind he wouldn't be able to bear.

After a while, she sighed, and stood up, walking away from the railing. He felt his heart sink into his chest, and the small glint of hope flickered like a candle's flame in a gale.

And then, her footsteps stopped. Air stood still for a split second, until they resumed, and, suddenly, he felt slim arms sneak around his waist from behind, and a warm body pressing against his. His breath caught in his lungs when he felt her embracing him tightly, in an almost desperate manner, and he nearly felt like he was choking – and then, as suddenly as it had appeared, the oppressing feeling went away.

They were silent for a while, her never relaxing her firm grip around him, and once again, he wanted to tell her how strong his feelings for her were, and didn't dare to. But he had to say something – anything – and before he could think about it, he found himself apologizing – sounding like an idiot – an asking the silliest, most mundane question instead.

"I'm sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Her arms tightened around him.

"I woke up. You were gone. I was cold, and I couldn't go back to sleep."

He pulled his free hand out of his pocket, and brushed lightly it against her own.

"I'm sorry."

"It's ok."

She relaxed her embrace and moved back, pulling his arm gently, making him turn around to face her. Even though she had just woken up, she was as gorgeous as ever. Her sleepy, slightly puffy eyes, tousled hair, and somewhat crumpled clothes seemed like the epitome of beauty to him. Before he knew it, he was raising his hand, with, in his mind, the intention to cup her face tenderly, but decided against it right in the middle of the gesture. Maybe she didn't want him to display such familiarity with her. Not yet. Not ever.

She noticed his hesitation, and smiled, reaching for his hand before he could let it fall next to his hip.

"Are you scared of me?" She looked at him intently, emotion surging through her eyes as she added : " _Please_. Don't be."

She pulled his hand to her face, kissing his palm, and he finally let himself brush his fingers against her cheek. She leaned in, and her face was then so close to his that their lips were brushing.

"Nami-san... Someone might see us."

"No way." She chuckled, her eyes half-lidded, obviously enjoying the moment. "You know how these idiots sleep like logs." She chuckled. "Nothing could wake Luffy unless you already started on breakfast. And I guess you didn't."

"Still..."

"Whatever. Let them see."

He relaxed ostensibly at these words, relief washing through him. He felt a smile creep onto his lips, and had a sudden impulse to embrace her, lift her in his arms, and make her twirl around. He muffled this silly urge, and instead, leaned in to kiss her softly, relishing the feeling of her sweet smell, slightly musky after last night, of her soft lips, of her smooth tongue, brushing against his own, and of her arms, firmly circled around his waist.

He hoped that he would have more than enough opportunities to make her twirl around, later. And he thought that maybe, maybe it wouldn't be that bad, after all.


End file.
